


the same luck

by xiaos (seijo)



Category: UP10TION
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Matchmaking, Romance, Roommates, Slow Burn, kind of???, minsoo and gyujin are here too but only for like one second, some swearing so beware, this was a grave mistake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 05:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21010670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seijo/pseuds/xiaos
Summary: if he and jinhyuk are two halves of the same brain cell, they've got to be the most powerful brain cell yein has ever seen - capable of (indirectly) destroying grocery stores, cleaning remote areas of their shared kitchen, and helping yein's best friend get together with the cute guy from renaissance lit.





	the same luck

Why anyone would put the white cheddar Cheez-Its on the top shelf, of all places, Yein has absolutely no idea. It’s his first time grocery shopping on his own, so it’s needless to say that he’s totally, utterly lost. They were supposed to return home over an hour ago, but it took him and Jinhyuk well above thirty minutes just to _ find _ the store - not to mention that he’s soaking wet from the rain and living on four and a half cups of pure death (read: espresso) and altogether _ just too tired for this. _

When he finally makes it to the snack aisle and sees the familiar box taunting him from above, well out of his reach, his first thought is to handle things rationally. It’s okay. After all, when there’s a will, there’s a way, and this is no exception. He just needs to figure this out and finish shopping as fast as possible, so they can finally go home.

After all, there are a couple of - ahem - pressing issues they need to attend to.

“Hey, Jinhyuk,” he calls out, seeing a familiar figure standing across the aisle. The taller man is drenched from head to toe, a somewhat confused expression on his face. “Can you help me get this box?”

Except there’s one important thing. It takes Yein a second to notice, but when he does, he realizes that Jinhyuk isn’t supposed to be in the store; he’s supposed to be outside, waiting for him and keeping an eye on -

_ “Hyung.” _ He feels a hand on his shoulder. Yein turns around, almost coming face to face with a very drunk, very emotional Lee Hwanhee.

He hears Jinhyuk curse silently from behind him.

The younger pouts. Shoves his phone into Yein’s face. “What’s the meaning of _ this.” _

It’s a picture of him and Dongyeol, laughing while Yein holds the camera. Dongyeol faces to the left, deeply immersed in something outside of the frame, and Yein himself is leaning in just slightly to capture both of them in the same shot.

He blinks.

“Oh, he posted it,” he says, a little surprised. The two of them took the photo while they were out for lunch the other day, and from the looks of it, it seems like Dongyeol uploaded it on Instagram a couple hours later. Hwanhee stares at him expectantly. “It’s not much, we just went to eat,” he simply explains, instinctively reaching up to tap the _ like _ button.

He momentarily forgets that this isn’t his account.

Hwanhee instantly panics, retracting his hand, but the damage is already done. He lets out an almost feral screech. 

_ “Noooooooooo! I’m not following him!” _

It takes nearly three minutes and a harsh reprimand from one of the store employees to calm him down. By the time the whole ordeal is over and done with, Yein is painfully aware of the judgemental stares from their fellow late-night shoppers, and he feels the overwhelming urge to disappear.

The sooner they get out of here, the better. It’s been a long day, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a _ little _ uncomfortable.

“Hey, Jinhyuk,” he says awkwardly, turning towards the frowning face beside him, “I still want my -”

“I was _ going _ to ask why you didn’t invite me,” Hwanhee whines. “But you know what, that’s all in the past now. I didn’t think you could break my heart any further, but you’ve managed to exceed my expectations.” He melodramatically clutches at his chest. “How could you betray me like this? How _ could you?” _

“Okay, let’s just _ forget about this - hey -” _ His friend is already sidetracked, preoccupied with grabbing piles and piles of cereal from the shelves and stuffing them into the shopping cart. The amusement he feels morphs into something akin to pure terror as he watches the other demolish walls of Special K at the speed of sound.

He and Jinhyuk run to stop Hwanhee, prying the boxes from his hands with some difficulty while the younger continues his path of destruction. Amidst the strain and the muffled screaming, they share a concerned look.

“You were supposed to _ watch him,” _ Yein manages to grit out.

“I _ was _ ,” Jinhyuk replies, fending off Hwanhee’s attacks. “You don’t even _ know _ how much of a struggle it was just to keep him from running out into the rain. When he’s drunk, he gets _ so _ assertive, I swear to God - I accidentally mentioned that we were waiting for you to finish shopping and he got really fired up, saying that he had a score to settle with you or something like that, and then he escaped before I even knew it.”

“Didn’t you at least _ try _ to stop him?”

“Hey! I tried my best!” The other is indignant. “I was holding him back but he pinched me! Then he just ran off… what was I supposed to do?”

Something in Jinhyuk’s tone causes Hwanhee to freeze momentarily, suddenly relaxing in Yein’s grip. Jinhyuk hesitantly lets go of the younger’s hands, and they watch as their friend grabs a box of cereal, hugs it to his chest, and proceeds to sob softly.

Yein’s voice is quiet. “Why was he even this drunk in the first place?”

“Hell if I know. Anyways, let’s get out of here before we get permanently banned from the store.” His roommate sighs. “Honestly, we should’ve just called a cab or something, like I’d originally suggested. This idea? Not the greatest stroke of genius. And all of this didn’t have to happen if you’d just _ not _ liked that picture.”

“Oh my _ God _ \- it was an accident, I swear -”

The other shoots him a look.

“Fuck this,” Yein says. “I’m sorry, okay? Now can you help me reach the Cheez-Its?”

“Nope,” Jinhyuk replies. “But hopefully you don't mind Special K, because we now have approximately _eighty extra boxes."_

* * *

They don’t say a word until they’ve returned to Yein and Jinhyuk’s shared apartment, stumbling through the doorway with their inebriated friend in tow. His roommate makes a cup of coffee while he tucks Hwanhee into bed, waiting until the sobs die down into peaceful snores before rejoining Jinhyuk at the kitchen table.

“I’ve never seen him this drunk,” he whispers. “To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him drunk at all. Have you?”

Jinhyuk shakes his head. “No. But I think you and I both know what this is probably about.”

They exchange glances in the dimly lit room.

“Let’s talk to him in the morning,” Yein suggests. “We should call it a night. You look tired.”

The other nods, pushing his chair back from the table before he stands slowly. “He’s sleeping in your room right now, isn’t he? You can take my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“It’s okay. I’ll take the couch.” His roommate looks hesitant, but Yein offers him a reassuring smile as he heads to the closet to pull out a spare blanket. “What? I can handle a night of smelling your residual foot stench on our furniture,” he jokes.

“Fine. _ Be that way,” _ is the pouty response he receives, and he can’t help but laugh.

Tomorrow is bound to be a wild ride.

* * *

It’s no secret that Hwanhee likes Lee Dongyeol. Yein has spent hours and hours listening to his friend talk about him, but let’s face it - the younger is so obvious about it that he’d be able to tell just from seeing the two of them interact. As far as he knows, the two of them share only one class, Renaissance Literature, and according to Hwanhee, that’s where it all began: he’d arrived late to class one day and Dongyeol, seeing him enter in a panic, had made a distraction, effectively diverting their professor’s attention while he snuck into the back row. To this day, he still retells it like it’s the most valiant sacrifice he’s ever witnessed.

Since then, he’s been trying his best to approach the person he describes as his literal lifesaver. Emphasis on _ trying, _ because getting a seat next to the guy you like can be surprisingly difficult when said guy seems to know _ literally _ everyone else in the class. Gyujin, an underclassmen who lives in Yein’s old dorm complex and happens to be acquainted with Dongyeol, tells the former that he often sees Hwanhee stealing glances at the black-haired boy in the middle of lecture.

“It’s cute,” Gyujin always adds, shaking his head in amusement. On more than one occasion, he asks Yein how on Earth Dongyeol hasn’t managed to notice yet.

Yein doesn’t really know either, to be honest. This has been going on since the end of sophomore year. Either Dongyeol is just oblivious to the situation, or he’s just choosing to ignore it, because - well - it’s not like _ Yein _ would know what to do either, if he were in the same position. As whipped as Hwanhee is, he still hasn’t managed to find the courage to _ talk _ to the guy, and Yein supposes that even if Dongyeol had some inkling of the other’s feelings, it would be too complicated to approach him.

It’s not unusual for Hwanhee to show up at their apartment after classes, ranting to him about the marbled aesthetics of Dongyeol’s sleeping face (“Man, I _ felt _ that - class today was _ so boring, _ I could’ve fallen asleep as well,” he’d claim, even though everyone knows he’s a sucker for the Renaissance), but Yein never thought he and Jinhyuk would run into their friend on the streets at 11 pm, lost and completely wasted. They’d been on their way to the only 24/7 grocery store in the city, Yein having insisted that the two of them finally get their act together and buy actual food for once. They were in the midst of a heated argument about veggie straws when they heard the sound of intense crying, and that’s how they discovered him.

To make things even better, they’d already arrived at the parking lot when it suddenly started to rain. Like, torrential-downpour, nature’s-turbo-shower type of rain.

Jinhyuk suggested for the two of them to call a cab for the younger, but upon closer inspection of their pockets, they discovered themselves to have a collective fourteen cents of pocket change, and hell if they were going to live on instant ramen for yet _ another _ week - so Yein dragged them the remainder of the way to the store, leaving his roommate outside with the instructions to _ keep Hwanhee from going in _ at all costs.

It had taken them a while to replace all the boxes of cereal.

There were a couple that couldn’t be salvaged, like the one that Hwanhee continued to cling onto like a lifeline, so they ended up buying them. When Jinhyuk attempted to pry it out of his hands, the younger resumed his screaming, threatening to kick him if he tried to steal “Dongyeol” again. Jinhyuk naturally backed off, having already endured the horrific experience of their wrestling match outside the store, and as they made their way back to the apartment with a few extra bags than originally planned, Yein made a mental note to never, ever let Hwanhee get drunk on his watch.

Their friend wakes up the next morning with a killer headache and absolutely no recollection of last night’s events. Yein is half-grateful, because if the younger knew, he’d probably never want to show his face in public again. (He does, however, have to explain to him why they’re no longer allowed at said grocery store.) He’s not totally sure if Hwanhee has any memory of how he started drinking in the first place, and seeing the amount of distress he’s in, Yein doesn’t feel particularly inclined to ask.

Hwanhee gratefully accepts Jinhyuk’s cup of water, showing no indications of the grudge his intoxicated self held towards both of them, then lies back down in Yein’s bed and sleeps for another couple hours. When he finally regains consciousness, it’s clear that he isn’t really up for talking, so they send him on his way at around noon and remind him to be careful.

He receives a panicked phone call at six in the afternoon. _ “HYUNG! Why did Dongyeol follow me on Instagram!?!??” _

* * *

Despite the amount of treachery that they’ve already faced together, he can’t really say that he knows his roommate _ that _ well. After all, they just moved into their apartment three months ago. Although his friends often see him as a warm, motherly sort of figure, Yein is still a little reserved at times, especially around strangers, and the first few weeks or so consisted of him awkwardly lurking around in his room to avoid the dread of having to make small talk. But it doesn’t actually take _ that long _ for him to warm up to Jinhyuk. It’s more that he ends up being forced to confront him after a series of… incidents.

Jinhyuk, as it turns out, is a pretty friendly guy, and the transition from distant awkwardness to familiarity is a lot smoother than Yein initially expects.

They don’t really start talking until Hwanhee, one of Yein’s childhood friends, takes to visiting their apartment after classes, insisting that the space they’ve rented out is infinitely more comfortable than his dorm room. With his loud and excited personality, the younger hits it off with Jinhyuk almost instantly. Sometimes Yein returns from his afternoon class only to find that Hwanhee has already made himself at home on their couch, talking in animated tones while his roommate burns through a bag of snacks at the dining table.

On one occasion, Hwanhee drags them both to go shopping with him, then leaves to meet up with someone else halfway through. Yein feels the momentary hesitation at spending time alone with his roommate, who he barely knows at this point, but fortunately, it doesn’t end up being that bad; Jinhyuk knows a bunch of the stores in the area, and they actually have a lot of fun browsing through the selection. They put on a movie in their apartment later that night, and so began their weekly traditions. Jinhyuk has this uncanny way of bringing out their inner stupidity, so it’s not unusual for the two of them to sit around in their living room doing absolutely nothing productive, or embark on a long-overdue trip to buy groceries in the middle of the night. Over time, they’ve developed a weird type of bickering relationship. When he’s not stressed out about one thing or another, the taller male has this easy-going, relaxed air about him that automatically attracts people to him, and Yein finds it surprisingly easy to open up when they’re together.

It’s not uncommon for their conversations to dissolve into sarcastic quips, much to the amusement (and sometimes concern) of their friends. Despite his laidback appearance, Jinhyuk is actually quite insightful, and all in all, Yein isn’t _that _ unsatisfied with his new rooming situation.

* * *

For the most part.

“Jinhyuk. I literally can’t see _ anything _ up here,” Yein complains.

“Uh-uh. I _ swear _ there’s dust,” his roommate replies, his hands steadying around the smaller’s waist. “Want me to lift you higher?”

_ I don’t remember signing up for this in our housing contract, _ he thinks to himself.

“I’m just warning you - you drop me, I’m suing from the afterlife.”

“Relax. I got you. There’s absolutely _ nothing _ you could do right now to make me let go.”

“Jinhyuk,” Yein singsongs, “I am completely, irrevocably in love with you.” He delights at the way Jinhyuk freezes, his laughs immediately dissolving into a yell of surprise as he feels his roommate’s fingers pinching into the sides of his waist.

Even though he’s facing away, he can practically see the devious grin on the other’s face. “The nerve you have,” Jinhyuk scolds him. “I _ told _ you I wasn’t letting go, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make you suffer a little.”

With one hand covering his face and the other holding the duster out like a shield, Yein carefully leans in to inspect the top of their kitchen cabinets. He frowns stubbornly. “It’s so clean, it’s almost like the surface of a skincare guru’s face,” he lies. Met with unconvinced silence from his roommate, he grudgingly takes the duster and sweeps across the wood, cleaning as far as he dares his arm to reach before they both fall over.

“Okay, I’m done.”

Jinhyuk sets him down gently, shuffles a couple steps to the left, and promptly picks him back up again, hoisting him into the air so that he’s facing the second set of cabinets. Yein lightly kicks his stomach in protest. “This is objectification. I’m not some kind of fancy arm extension.”

“Hey, watch it. If I go down, you’re coming down with me.”

“Fight me.”

“Do you _ really _ want me to taze you again?”

“How dishonorable. Put me down and face me like a real warrior.”

There’s a pause before Jinhyuk huffs in frustration, seemingly speechless at Yein’s audacity. “... You know, my arms are actually getting kind of sore,” he pipes up, completely changing the subject.

“Rude.”

“Oh my God. Could you just, like, _ clean it.” _

“We should really get a ladder in here. Why are the ceilings so tall? In my old house, your head would be through the roof, and we wouldn’t need to do human jenga just to keep the dust away.” Still, he accepts Jinhyuk’s request, unwilling to deal with the somewhat unpleasant smell of the musty cabinet surfaces.

“You’re lucky you happen to be rooming with someone who just happens to be the right height for this job - _ and _ nice enough to agree to it,” he grumbles. “And you wouldn’t even get me my Cheez-Its.”

* * *

Sunday night brings a well-deserved repose from the craziness of the week. Yein gets back from his shift a little earlier than planned, taking a seat at the dining table to finish his reading for his Monday morning class.

It’s bound to be a long assignment, from the looks of it. He’d taken one glance at the syllabus and regretted not starting it earlier. Not that he dislikes reading - not by a long shot - but this book has been particularly difficult for him to dissect, and it doesn’t help that he has to hand in a written analysis of tonight’s selection.

After a couple of hours, he places the text facedown on the table, his head spinning from trying to piece together what _ could _ be a valid argument for his paper… but could also very well be a straight-up conspiracy theory.

“Come take a break and finish cleaning the apartment with me,” his roommate offers when he hears Yein groan in frustration.

“Uh. Like hell.”

Jinhyuk laughs, leaning in to inspect his work out of curiosity. “What is it?”

“This book I have to read for tomorrow,” he replies. 

“Ooh. What’s the title?”

Yein relays it to him. The other shrugs, having never heard of it before. “I don’t understand. Why does it have to be romance?” Yein says, frowning slightly.

“What, you’re not a romantic?” his roommate asks teasingly. He shakes his head. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t think about romance - I guess maybe I just don’t think of it the same way,” he replies. “Things like these are out of my realm.”

“See, I thought I kind of had a grasp of what was going on, but there’s this one scene that really confuses me. The narrator’s talking about something - _ completely _ unrelated to what he was saying before - but he keeps interrupting with all these elaborate descriptions of the person he loves. And they’re so fragmented. It just feels weird, like it doesn’t fit in with the rest of the story. But the descriptions are there all the time, even though they’re so disjunct. It’s like… in some way, they’re both unpredictable and constant at the same time. I don’t know what it _ means.” _

His roommate is silent, seemingly contemplating Yein’s words.

“I mean. I’m certainly no expert on this, but maybe the meaning isn’t quite what you would expect,” he suggests. “But I don’t really know. Maybe it’s something about the way that his feelings manifest themselves - he could just be trying to say how beautiful he thinks the person is. Or highlight that the thought of them is always present, even when he tries to put his mind on other things.” He sighs. “Maybe it’s normal to not understand. Maybe not understanding is the point.”

“... Huh,” Yein says. He closes the book slowly, turning to face the other with firm resolution. “Okay, let’s do some cleaning. I’m burnt out.”

* * *

He doesn’t know how, but somehow he and Jinhyuk have become something like Hwanhee’s personal relationship advice panelists, which honestly sounds like a shitty concept in itself. Yein hasn’t so much as considered dating since the end of freshman year, when his last relationship abruptly ended. He spent a long time afterwards just thinking back and reflecting. He has a lot of respect for his previous significant other, and the two of them still keep in touch today, but it’s clear in hindsight that they weren’t right for each other.

And things are kind of like that now. It’s not that he’s emotionally unavailable, but he just hasn’t met someone who he feels is right for him. Frankly, it’s been so long that he isn’t even sure _ how _ that’s supposed to feel. He wants a lot of things, yes, but what he wants the most is comfort. Someone he can act natural with. Someone who truly allows him to feel like himself.

As for Jinhyuk… well, he doesn’t really know. Maybe he’s dated in the past, but Yein hasn’t seen him bring anyone over to the apartment in the few months that they’ve roomed together. When they first met, the taller struck him as somewhat of a flirt - maybe because he just so happens to fit the exact definition of tall, dark, and handsome - but it took only a couple days and the sight of their toaster aflame, prompting the first and last call he has ever made to the campus security office, for him to realize that Lee Jinhyuk _ really _ doesn’t have it together.

His roommate is a bit of a mess. Although he _ does _ like to keep his spaces clean, which Yein admittedly really appreciates. But his aggressive Overwatch-playing, which sometimes keeps Yein up at night - and his inability to toast bread - are causes for concern. He might be a tall, dark, and handsome mess, but that _ doesn’t _ make him attractive. Not in the slightest. 

Just a little bit questionable, sometimes.

Yein pulls the earbud out of his left ear, looking up to see his childhood friend sitting across the table, a hopeful expression on his face.

“So, what do you think?” Hwanhee asks hesitantly.

He glances expectantly at Jinhyuk, who’s still wearing the right one. He looks like his brain has short-circuited.

Yein speaks first. “It’s really good, Hwan. Seriously.” He lowers the sound of his voice just slightly, leaning in to take Hwanhee’s hands with enthusiasm. “If only he could have the chance to listen to them.”

“No way! They’re nothing special. I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself.” Hwanhee’s ears are tinged pink with a light flush.

_ Nothing special _ is a far cry from the truth. Hwanhee’s songs are incredible. He’s been listening to his friend’s compositions for the past two years, both through his sample recordings and his weekly performances at their university’s coffeehouse nights, and he’s still certain that he could go another hundred thousand or so and never get sick of hearing Hwanhee’s voice. Yein can’t help but think that if someone were to write songs like these about _ him, _ he wouldn’t hesitate to marry them on the spot.

“You’re so talented, Hwanhee,” Jinhyuk says. “Seriously, if I could write music the way you do, I’d be serenading the person I like 24/7.”

“Until they call security on you, that is,” Yein scoffs, while Hwanhee immediately grows intrigued, leaning in with curiosity - “Ooh, hyung, you’re saying that there’s someone you’re interested in?”

Jinhyuk waves his hand cryptically. “Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t.” He laughs lightheartedly. It’s the exact kind of casual response Yein expects him to give, but he can’t help but want to know as well. His roommate continues. “But Hwan, in life, if there’s someone you like, you just have to go out there and show them.”

“How am I supposed to do that? We’re not even friends.” 

“I don’t know, you kids these days are so cheesy - sing obnoxious love songs at his dorm window or something like that. When he finally comes out to tell you to shut up, you can yell at the top of your lungs, _ LEE DONGYEOL, I AM IN LOVE WITH -” _

“I can’t believe this,” Yein interrupts, barely containing his laughter. “Who would want to accept a love confession like that. I’d be ready to take flight.”

“Oi. At least I’d be able to say it to their face, and they wouldn’t have to crane their necks to look down at me…”

He initiates an attack directly at the side of his roommate’s waist. “This is slander in its most egregious form.”

“Y’all are _ married,” _ Hwanhee observes, feigning disgust at the seemingly cringey scene in front of him. “Forget me and Dongyeol.”

“Pfft. As if I’d ever marry this nerd.”

“Likewise, _ nerd.” _

* * *

Before he knows it, summer break is already approaching, and Yein spends whatever is left of their time on campus wallowing in oppressively humid 90-degree heat. The cooling system in their apartment complex just happens to break down at the beginning of the month, and by the time final exams start rolling around, he’s just counting down the days until he can escape to the comfort of his air-conditioned home.

In the midst of the seemingly pervasive threat of becoming a human omelette, he’s reminded of the fact that this isn’t - shouldn’t - be the worst of his problems. He’s got a physics test much sooner than he’d like, and most concerning of all, his roommate seems to have disappeared off the face of the Earth.

Maybe he should be worried? It’s hard to get lost in the city in this day and age, and although he’s aware that Google Maps isn’t exactly the most _ reliable _ source, it seems unlikely that Jinhyuk would somehow be gone for a whole two and a half days due to some kind of navigational error. The man sometimes comes and goes as he pleases, so Yein doesn’t want to bother him, but he also feels the need to make sure that, you know, nothing bad happened.

He texts Jinhyuk. _ you good? youve been out of the house for a long time,, _

And then he waits.

_ yeah, _ comes the response, and he subconsciously lets out the breath he was holding. _ was hanging out w/friends and somehow ended up just staying over a while. i’ll be back b4 u know it _

_ did u miss me or sumn ;0 _

_ you wish _

But he’s not going to lie. The apartment _ has _ been a lot quieter without his roommate around. Which is nice sometimes. But it’s a little unnerving, too. And he kind of misses mooching off Jinhyuk’s cooking.

By the time the other returns, he finds Yein sprawled out on the couch, miserably scrolling through channels on their TV.

“Wow. I leave you for three days and you’re barely functional.”

“Don’t talk to me,” he grumbles. “That physics test nearly annihilated me. Also, I’ve been lying here for so long, I think I’m stuck to the leather. With my _ sweat.” _

Jinhyuk’s immediate response is to walk over and sit on top of him. 

“... In what world was that an invitation to prolong my suffering?”

Summer break isn’t all that _ long _ \- just about a month, where he can finally go back and see his family and spend some long-overdue time with them - but he’ll miss this routine a little bit. Four weeks will fly by and then it’ll be back to this. Long afternoons spent shuffling around campus or tackling his roommate on the couch, screaming as loud as feasibly possible without disturbing their neighbors.

“Stay in touch,” Jinhyuk says quietly as Yein drags his suitcase out of the apartment that Saturday. He smiles and nods, feeling a strange sense of resignation as he closes the door behind him.

* * *

When he returns to campus, giving himself a couple days to spare before classes resume, Jinhyuk is already in the process of unpacking. Yein arrives to find him hunched over, mask on face, steadily lifting out pieces of brand-new home furniture from a series of stacked boxes.

“Ah, Yeinnie,” he says cutely. “Long time no see.”

He runs his fingers through his hair; it’s a little too short, the trademark look of a recent haircut intended to last him another half a year. Yein has to stifle a laugh at how the strands stick upright like blades of freshly-trimmed grass, making his head look like an acorn. Jinhyuk always complains that none of the hairdressers near campus can ever get his haircut right, so he refuses to get it done anywhere besides the shop in his hometown. When the school year ends, his hair will probably be long enough for him to sweep across his forehead.

”Long time no see,” he replies.

Having not much else to do after they finish unpacking, the two of them decide to visit a restaurant that they’ve been wanting to try out. It’s located on a large shopping street, so Yein suggests that they take the long route and stop at a few stores along the way.

They gradually fall into step with each other as they walk, chatting quietly amongst themselves, and the topic quickly shifts to their most recent summer break. Yein learns that Jinhyuk spent much of the past month tutoring at the middle school program near his home, and that his mother dragged him out shopping right before he returned, insisting that their apartment was far too empty and needed some more decorations. Hence the piles of empty boxes now filling up their living room. Jinhyuk talks for a little while longer before asking him about his vacation, and he tells his roommate about visiting his family and meeting up with his old friends in Changwon.

Jinhyuk must be used to walking with people who are shorter than him, he notes, observing how the other takes almost comically small steps relative to his leg length, matching the placement of his feet with Yein’s. Any other day and he’d definitely make some kind of sarcastic comment about it, but their current conversation is nice. There aren’t many times like this, when they’re not slapping each other’s arms and driving each other up metaphorical walls just for the fun of it. It’s comfortable. Once Jinhyuk gets started on something he’s interested in, he can keep a conversation for hours, which Yein appreciates, because aside from the moments of sarcasm, there are many times when he’s honestly not quite sure what to say.

When he turns his head to the side, his roommate is looking at him with the most unreadable expression, wearing the tiniest of smiles. It’s only been a month since they last saw each other, but Yein can’t help but think that something about Jinhyuk is a little _ odd. _Or maybe that’s not the right way to put it. Curious, perhaps. The taller closes his eyes, stepping closer to Yein and linking their elbows together. It’s new, but Yein doesn’t complain, lightly swinging their arms back and forth as they trek forward.

“Hey, Jinhyuk, what’s your hometown like?” he asks.

“Hmm, my hometown? Well, it’s not that far from here,” Jinhyuk muses. “It’s not like I’m unfamiliar with this place. My dad works around here, so I’ve been visiting the university ever since I was little.”

“As for the neighborhood I lived in, it was pretty nice - I had lots of friends, and every year our local library would hold events for the residents.” Suddenly thinking of something, his expression brightens, and he immediately launches into the next sentence. “One year, there was this huge bake-off, and my mom made the most _ amazing _ pastries. She won, and after that, so many people came over to ask her if she could make some for them. Ah, actually, some people offered to buy them for a pretty good price, but she was really busy at the time, so my sister and I tried to help out. It didn’t really work, though. We always ended up making a huge mess.”

He pictures teenage Jinhyuk standing in the kitchen, frantically waving a spatula as flour flies across the room like confetti. It’s definitely a scene he’d pay to witness.

“What about you, Yein?” 

He smiles softly, leaning into his roommate for support. It takes him a couple seconds to collect his thoughts. “There were some good things,” he responds. “You could drive for like twenty minutes in practically any direction and see water. I used to go to the beach all the time when I was little. And you could see the mountains from the balcony of our apartment.” 

“Do you miss it?”

“Hmm… a little bit. It was quiet when you needed it to be. I liked that a lot. And I miss my family, of course.” He’s quiet. “But, you know, I’m kind of glad to be out here now. I think I just needed a change of scenery.”

“Yeah, I can see that. I love the city, but sometimes I get sick of staying in the same place, too. You should take me to your hometown someday, Yein." The statement comes as somewhat of a surprise to him, but he supposes Jinhyuk is just curious. Maybe he’s never been there before.

“Wow, taking you to meet my parents? I didn’t realize our relationship was so far along already,” he jokes, deriving some satisfaction from the way his friend chokes on thin air.

It’s already dark after they finish eating, and they stroll down the familiar streets towards their apartment building. Street lamps illuminate the long stretches of sidewalk, and to their right, the Han River emits a soft glow against the darkness of their surroundings. Seoul is a lot different from where he grew up, but it’s not totally unfamiliar; there’s something about being in the city that makes him feel like he’s connected to everything and everywhere. Even though he’s across the country, he can look out into the blur of lights that dot the urban landscape at night, and as long as he doesn’t stare too closely, they almost seem to take the shape of familiar skyscrapers and streets that he recognizes.

He’s hardly one to get emotional - maybe at some point in his life, he was the opposite, but things have changed since then. Even so, there’s something incredibly satisfying about being like this, walking side by side with his roommate, elbows just barely brushing. Jinhyuk is a chatterbox as always, but Yein doesn’t mind it much; they’ve taken to telling stories about their childhood, and his eyes shine as he talks about his dog back home, Arong-ie. It’s like the strains of life, every worry that Yein subconsciously finds himself clinging onto, gradually fades into white noise, and he finds himself solely in the moment, concentrated on the lows of Jinhyuk’s voice and the sound of water and the feeling of _ slow and easy, _ of elbows brushing and side by side and existing in the same space.

“Okay, but listen to this,” Jinhyuk says, and Yein turns to look at him as the taller laughs quietly, features softening as they catch the light. His throat goes dry, and his chest tightens, and tightens, and his mind lingers on the sight long after the moment ends.

* * *

“Listen,” Jinhyuk begins, lowering his voice as he leans in to whisper to Yein from across the booth. The three of them are out for lunch at a local restaurant, Hwanhee having just excused himself to use the bathroom. “You know how I’m the manager of our peer tutoring system?” Yein nods. “Well, Hwan was just saying that he needs help studying for this math test, right? And…” He smiles deviously. “Guess who’s currently working as a math tutor in the program?”

It takes Yein a couple seconds to put two and two together.

“Oh. _ Oh,” _ he exclaims. “Lee Jinhyuk, I say you’re a genius.”

“I know,” the other replies smugly. “And Dongyeol’s assignment to another student just ended last week, so he_ just _ happens to be available on duty.”

It’s the idea of a century. He knows that Hwanhee has been dying for a chance to get to know Dongyeol more. Spending some time together would be a great way for them to build their relationship, and maybe flirt a little, if they can ever get past the point of awkward pining.

After they return home, they draft out Operation Get Hwanhee a Date within thirty minutes (“I mean _ technically, _ it’s not really a date,” Yein insists, but his roommate still gleefully writes the title on their planning sheet). Jinhyuk sends Dongyeol an email inquiring as to whether he would be willing to tutor an additional student for a temporary amount of time, and when he receives an affirmative response, he shoots a very succinct text to Hwanhee - 

_ might’ve done something. go to library @ 7 ;) _

It’s Yein’s job to accompany their friend to the library and explain exactly what’s going on.

The younger looks unbelievably flustered when Yein breaks the news to him. “You’re telling me I’m meeting up with _ Dongyeol _ right now? I should’ve taken a shower beforehand,” he whines, and as they approach the building, he stalls outside for a good five minutes, nervously asking Yein if he looks okay.

“You look fine, Hwan,” he insists. “Perfect. You’ll steal Dongyeol’s heart the moment that he sees you.”

The smile on his friend’s face is priceless.

When they part for the day, Yein gently pushing him towards the door with an encouraging smile, Hwanhee grins sheepishly, hesitantly fiddling with a stray strand of hair, and mutters a small “thank you”.

“Don’t thank me,” he replies. “It was all Jinhyuk.”

And it was, he thinks to himself as he turns to head back to the dorm. Jinhyuk doesn’t _ have _ to put this much heart into this - after all, he and Yein are just roommates, and they’ve known each other for a total of like six months, and it’s not like Hwanhee is _Jinhyuk’s _childhood best friend - but somehow, he still does. He doesn't have to, but, as Yein is slowly starting to realize, kindness is like second nature to him. Even underneath all the grumpiness and old man energy. 

_ Thank you, _ he’ll say to Jinhyuk once he returns home. The statement somehow seems foreign; he’s gotten so used to nonchalance and this kind of intrinsic, deeply-rooted aversion to affection, not only towards his roommate but in life. He’s always been used to caring internally - maybe a little bit _ too _much, sometimes - but it’s difficult, nowadays, to express those sentiments out loud sometimes. 

Still, he wants to let Jinhyuk know just how much he appreciates him doing this. Hwanhee’s happiness means a lot to him, and if the person responsible for putting a smile on his face just so happens to also be responsible for putting his own smelly socks in Yein’s freshly-done laundry, then so be it.

* * *

Jinhyuk asks him to bring him to coffeehouse one week, insisting that he’s waited long enough for one lifetime and _ has _ to see Hwanhee perform his songs. Yein has to laugh at his eagerness, agreeing to meet up with him that evening, and his roommate’s shout of triumph is comically uplifting.

His psychology class ends at four, so he quickly heads back to the dorm to change, having made the mistake of wearing a T-shirt on one of the coldest days in October. He pulls on a flannel hoodie over his outfit, adding a red beret and some coral blush for an extra touch.

From there, he packs a small bag and walks to their designated meeting place in the campus courtyard. Now that he’s dressed comfortably for the weather, he’s able to fully appreciate the way that they’ve finally transitioned into fall; the leaves on surrounding trees have lost their emerald-green hues, shedding the colors of summer for a palette of warm reds and oranges, and the wind that ruffles his hair is a soothing lukewarm temperature.

From afar, he can see Jinhyuk approaching, decked out from head to toe in fancy attire. He’s cleaned up well, having curled his hair slightly and combed it across his forehead with a slightly skewed center part. Yein has to admit that he looks good. Maybe a little _ too _ good, honestly, for a casual get-together on campus.

“Hey, look, it’s the second coolest person living in Apartment 910,” Jinhyuk says, as a way of greeting.

Yein shoots him the most glowering look he can muster. “What are you _ wearing?” _

“What are _ you _ wearing? I thought this was a formal event!”

He laughs. His roommate shakes his head in exasperation, the hint of a smile tracing across his face.

“Anyways, let’s go,” he says, casually offering his hand for Yein to take. He slots his hand into Jinhyuk’s, ignoring the way his stomach flips dangerously.

They manage to find a seat in the center of the room, located somewhere near the back. In the dimly-lit space, Hwanhee most likely won’t be able to see them in the audience, but they have an incredible view of the stage. Yein makes a mental note to take some pictures of his friend’s performance, just in case the younger wants to post something on Instagram.

“Hey, Dongyeol is here, too,” Jinhyuk observes.

“Where?”

Doing a once-over of the room, he spots Dongyeol sitting a few tables away, scrolling through his phone in the dark. As the two make eye contact, he gives the younger a friendly wave.

“Hyung,” the younger male says happily, looking up from the screen as Yein makes his way over to him. “You’re here as well?”

Yein slips into the empty seat beside him. “Actually, I come here all the time,” he replies. “One of my friends performs here regularly, so I like to attend these events to support him.”

“Ah, Hwanhee?” Yein nods in surprise. The other smiles sheepishly, dipping his head slightly. “I come here a lot too, so I’ve seen a lot of his performances. He’s very talented.”

_ Interesting, _ he thinks.

They talk for a little while before he returns to his table with Jinhyuk. The acts have already started, and the other briefly tears his attention away from the current soloist to shoot Yein a troubled look. “Are you okay?” he asks. “You look like you’re thinking about something.”

“It’s okay,” he responds, pausing slightly. Seeing no change in the his roommate’s concerned expression, he adds, “Seriously, don’t worry about it. There’s just something on my mind. I’ll tell you later.”

There isn’t much time left to talk, anyways, because mid-sentence, Yein sees Hwanhee stepping onstage, and Jinhyuk instantly snaps his mouth shut.

Seeing Hwanhee like this always makes him a little emotional, like a proud mom sending her son off to school for the first time. They’ve been friends since the seventh grade, and over the years, he’s seen the younger go from struggling over his stage fright, frozen in place every time he was asked to sing in public, to performing almost every week, becoming one of the most well-known coffeehouse acts in their school. Yein estimates that maybe sixty percent of the people in the audience are there to see him.

He closes his eyes, holding onto the sound of the guitar and the husky tones of Hwanhee’s voice floating above it. His elbow brushes lightly against Jinhyuk’s side, and he finds himself leaning against the other, habitually resting his head against his arm. Jinhyuk is warm and smells familiar, almost like the lavender that his mom used to keep around the house.

Halfway through the performance, he catches his roommate staring in his direction, seeing the familiar glimpse of that expression he still can’t seem to decipher.

“What is it?” he asks. The other takes a moment to respond, eyes faltering just slightly before the corners of his mouth lift into a teasing smile.

“Nothing. You really do look like a mushroom with that hat on.”

“_ Hey! _ Don’t insult _ me _ just because _ you _ don’t have taste,” he laughs, smacking him lightly on the arm. He sees Jinhyuk close his eyes, mouth falling open just slightly as he hums along to Hwanhee’s song. God, he’s just so _ pretty. _ It’s unfair. Sometimes Yein has to curse whatever turn of fate had resulted in him having Lee Jinhyuk as his roommate, because seeing him like this brings back feelings he thought he’d be living without for a long, long time.

* * *

More things he’s come to discover about Jinhyuk in the past couple months: 1) he might be the most clingy person Yein knows; 2) he’s pretty good at cuddling, which almost makes up for the inconvenience of having ice-cold legs wrapped around Yein’s waist while he tries to edit his resume.

“Oi. Where did you just come from? A refrigerator?” he yelps, halfheartedly trying to push his roommate’s foot away. The other whines in protest, wrapping his arms around the smaller’s torso until Yein finds himself completely trapped. “Yeinnie. I’m _ cold. _ And you’re so _ warm.” _

“Not your fault for keeping your room at, like, sixty degrees.” But he lets himself surrender. Jinhyuk is silent, so he opens his mouth again after a moment of hesitation. “Bad day?”

His roommate’s reply is just a simple hum against his hair. “Nothing much. I’m just tired.” Yein nods in acknowledgement. “Wanna watch _ The Notebook _ with me?”

He laughs, closing his laptop with a resolute _ click. _ It’s not like he wants to be working right now, anyway.

They crack open the last of their Doritos, settling back down on the couch with the newfound determination to procrastinate the night away. As soon as the movie starts, opening up to a scene of ocean water flushed with red hues, the sound of soft piano in the background, the conversation between them dies down into a transfixed sort of silence. Yein ceases his chewing mid-crunch as they sit wordlessly, trying to decipher the image before their eyes.

The camera pans to the silhouette of a woman standing at a window, staring out into the water. As roommates, they’ve watched countless movies together - maybe an average of one per week - but over the months, they’ve yet to tackle _ The Notebook. _ After an hour or so, it’s pretty apparent to Yein why; it takes him by surprise how naturally he becomes immersed in the story, slowly connecting past to present, finding himself emotionally invested before he even realizes.

About three-fourths of the way through the movie, Jinhyuk rolls over, grabs the remote next to him, and switches the channel to _ Jeopardy. _

_ “Hey!” _ Yein is about to protest. Then he turns and sees the tears on his roommate’s face. “Oh my God???”

“What the _ fuck,” _ Jinhyuk mumbles. “This is so _ sad.” _

“Hey -” He sprawls himself over the other’s legs in a futile attempt to grab the remote, but Jinhyuk intercepts his arm, holding the object above his head out of Yein’s reach. 

He scowls. “Come on, Jinhyuk, change it back. I need to see the end.”

_ “No,” _ his roommate sobs. Yein proceeds to crawl over him, scaling the stretch of the couch at record speed, but Jinhyuk is even faster, shifting so that he’s practically leaning off the armrest, one hand pushing Yein’s face away in defense. His immediate reaction is to grab the offending hand and lick it.

_ “EWWWWWWWW,” _ he hears, and then the remote is slipping out of his hands, momentarily suspended in the air. Yein snatches it triumphantly, lifting it into the air in an attempt to move it out of Jinhyuk’s reach.

But he completely underestimates the power of being a literal human pillar. His friend - can he even call him that anymore? - reaches over and plucks the remote out of his hands. 

“How is that physically _ possible?” _ he groans. “Don’t short people have rights, too?”

“You guys would break all of our kneecaps if you only had the opportunity.” Still, Jinhyuk grudgingly switches the channel back, and they finish the rest of the movie, albeit in total silence.

When the credits scene starts to roll, Yein can feel the tears on his own cheeks. He reluctantly swipes them away with the back of his sleeve, rubbing his eyes stubbornly in an attempt to suppress his own tear ducts. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He’s been emotionally constipated for so long, it feels a little silly to be rendered an incoherent mess of sentiment by _ The _ fucking _ Notebook. _

He looks to his right, where Jinhyuk has almost completely covered himself with blankets, sobbing away in resignation. He laughs.

“We should’ve made a bet on who would cry first,” Yein jokes, and Jinhyuk smiles, lightly hitting him. Instead of responding, he intertwines his legs with Yein’s once more, and this time, Yein doesn’t complain; it’s a vast improvement from the first instance, now that the other’s external body temperature has returned to a somewhat tolerable level.

He feels himself being pulled into Jinhyuk’s chest, and they lie in silence until Yein hears the harsh exhales of his voice smooth into the familiar pattern of in-and-out. He closes his eyes, soothed by the warmth of the contact between his back and Jinhyuk’s torso, and as he listens to the steadfast sound of his roommate’s breathing, slow and easy, he lets out a sigh of relief.

Jinhyuk’s hand softly threads through his hair. He can practically hear his own heartbeat in his ears, loud and roaring in the stillness of the moment. He thinks about older times, about home, and it’s surprising how cathartic it can feel to remember what you’ve almost forgotten.

“Whenever I watch these kinds of movies, I’m always reminded of how beautiful love can be,” he finds himself saying. “Like one great love story can change you. But seeing it through a screen, it seems so far away and unattainable.”

His roommate doesn’t respond for a while, simply occupying himself with squashing down a section of his hair that refuses to lie flat. “I mean,” comes the reply, “it’s probably naive to think that you’ll experience love like it is in the movies. But real love is nice, too, in its own way.” 

Jinhyuk continues. “Well, it’s not like romance in movies isn’t _ real _ in some sense - after all, you can’t deny that the two of them love each other.” He gestures at the TV, where the credits scene of _ The Notebook _ is still rolling onscreen_. _ “But maybe we - I mean, you or I - will live it in a different way. It probably won’t be this _ grand._ It might be quiet.” His hand stills against Yein’s head. “Like returning to shore after a long time out at sea.”

The conversation dies down. Yein is overwhelmed by the constricting feeling in his chest, and even though his brain is screaming at him at a hundred miles per minute, he wants nothing more than to just lie here and be content. Even if it’s just for a little while.

He turns to face his roommate, shifting so that the side of his cheek is pressed into the fabric of the other’s cotton shirt. “Do you feel a little better now?”

“Yeah,” Jinhyuk replies. “A little bit. I was just getting too caught up in everything. It’s just scary to think about the future sometimes.”

“You know, you can always talk to me about it if you need to. I know that we just bicker all the time, but still. I’m your -” He struggles to find the right word. “Well, we’re roommates, and I just hope you know that I’m here for you.”

Silence. “Thank you,” the other says.

His arms tighten around the smaller. Yein doesn’t know what to call this moment - the one in which Jinhyuk wants to hold him and he, aware of the warmth and the cloudy haze of his thoughts and this undeniable falling sensation in his stomach, lets him.

* * *

It’s just an innocent question. Nothing but that. But it really, truly makes him think, and maybe a whole two minutes elapse before he realizes that he has absolutely _ no idea _ how to respond.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Hwanhee quickly says, retracting his earlier inquiry. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” he replies. “It’s just that… to be honest, I don’t _ know.” _

His friend hums in acknowledgement. “That’s okay. I was just wondering, because you two have been spending a lot of time together lately. I mean, I know that you’re roommates, but still. I saw you at the library together and was wondering how you guys don’t manage to get sick of each other when you’re literally living in the same building.”

_ Have we been hanging out a lot? _ Yein wonders. They’ve seen each other a lot more often in the past few weeks, but he always assumed it was because Jinhyuk has more time on his hands nowadays. His roommate is usually out until the early evening, but recently, he’s walked into the apartment at around two or three in the afternoon to find that Jinhyuk is already there.

“You guys lowkey act like you’re trying to expose each other on _ Criminal Minds _ all the time, so I was kind of confused at first... but then I thought about it more, and I started wondering if maybe you do like him.”

“I mean.” His mouth feels dry. “I don’t think I _ dislike _ him. Not by a long shot. Like, I don’t _ not _ like him. I...” Why is this so difficult?

Seeing the legitimate confusion on his face, Hwanhee’s eyebrows furrow. Yein tries again. “I guess it’s just that… it’s been so long since I’ve felt this way. Nowadays, I want to try and sort my feelings out, but I always find myself doubting whether what I’m going through is valid.”

“I don’t know. It’s like, you fall out of love for a long time, and when you think you’re starting to get back into it, it feels kind of foreign, and you can’t remember what it’s supposed to be like, or how you’re supposed to process it. And then there’s just the fear of _ letting _ yourself remember. There are times when you think that you’ve got it all down, only to get hurt by something unexpected and realize that it still doesn’t make any sense.”

His friend nods.

“I see,” he replies. He reaches out to hold Yein’s hand. The slight hesitation he usually carries has vanished, and it’s clear to Yein how much his friend has grown in the past year.

“Well, hyung, this is just my opinion, but it isn’t necessarily that you don’t have feelings for him. Maybe you’re just a little nervous.” Hwanhee gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I think it’s okay to not know. At some point, you will.”

* * *

Hwanhee calls him a while later with a tone of urgency, saying that he never fully apologized for causing them trouble in the grocery store that one night. “Really, I meant to talk to you about it, but then so many other things came up and I forgot,” he admits. “But I was just reminded of it a couple minutes ago, and I wanted to say that I’m really sorry.”

So he _ did _ remember. It’s seriously no big deal - despite the craziness of the incident itself, Yein has long forgotten about it, and despite Jinhyuk’s mild grumpiness afterwards, he knows that his roommate’s greatest concern is Hwanhee’s wellbeing. But he’s still curious as to what actually _ happened. _

His friend seems a little embarrassed when he asks, but eventually, he nods and gives Yein a recap of the events from his perspective.

The night they’d found him drunk, he explains, he was out with his friends to celebrate the end of midterms. Their group had already ordered a ton of alcohol at the bar, and he hadn’t really meant to drink, but then he saw the picture of Dongyeol and Yein on Instagram and figured it could help him take his mind off everything. “It’s not that I was mad at you!” he says sorrowfully. “It’s just that I was so frustrated at myself… I’ve liked him for so long and I could never even find the courage to approach him.”

Midterms were already over and done with at that point, so he hadn’t really given it much second thought - just asked his friends for a cup, and one thing led to another until he was sitting outside the bar, somehow separated from the rest of them, and that’s where the two roommates had run into him.

Of course, Yein forgives him. He’s sorry, too, for giving off that impression and making his friend worry when he knows - he _ knows_, better than anyone, how much Hwanhee cares about Dongyeol. He reassures the younger that there was nothing going on, to which Hwanhee responds, “I know!!! It was stupid of me!! You two were just hanging out - he posts pictures with his friends all the time - I don’t know _ why _ I was so upset all of a sudden -”

And Yein tells him not to worry about it. But he tries to avoid talking about the topic any further, instead shifting the conversation to a paper that he has to write for economics.

“Why _ did _ you go out to eat with Dongyeol, though?” Jinhyuk wrinkles his nose. They’re sitting at the dining table, staring at Yein’s phone after the call ends. “I thought you guys weren’t that close.”

“Honestly, it kind of surprised me too,” Yein admits. “I didn’t expect him to invite me. He said he actually wanted to ask me for some advice.”

He pauses.

“But - okay - here’s where it gets kind of weird. And you can’t ever tell Hwanhee this, promise?”

“Ooh, _ tea.” _

“He said that there’s this person that he really likes - said he’s liked them for a long time now, and it’s driving him crazy, and he wants to figure out how to ask them out.”

“Wait, _ really?” _ Jinhyuk’s eyes are wider than saucers. “What if it really is Hwanhee?”

“That’s what I thought too. But Jinhyuk…” Yein finds himself lowering his voice, even though they’re the only two in the room. “I talked to Dongyeol a couple of days ago at coffeehouse. He said he’s liked this person for _ almost four years.” _

The other whistles. “That’s dedication.”

“But that’s the thing. Hwanhee has only known him for two.”

“... Shit.”

* * *

The next time they see Hwanhee sing, it’s a new composition. He’s never heard this one before, so Yein closes his eyes as he listens to the younger’s voice gloss smoothly over the unfamiliar words - _ time and time again, I will love you. _He can’t help but think that, although he doesn’t recognize the lyrics, he would know, at first listen, that these were Hwanhee’s words to Dongyeol just from the way that they _ feel. _ Hwanhee is in love with Lee Dongyeol, and it’s a shame, really; it’s quite heartbreaking that he might never know -

“- that these songs are for him,” Jinhyuk continues, his voice low. “Yein, I think that he should just _ tell _ Dongyeol.”

No. Telling Dongyeol is out of the question. Yein knows it’s ridiculous, but he’s seen the way that Hwanhee talks about the other boy. He loves him, and although Yein knows that he would accept anything if it meant Dongyeol’s happiness, it would hurt him, even if he didn’t let it show. Hwanhee is a whiner and sometimes can’t be described as anything short of an actual gremlin, but they’ve spent enough time together for Yein to know that he’s more compassionate than anyone gives him enough credit for.

He glances across the room, and his eyes land on Lee Dongyeol’s silhouette, outlined against the walls in the dim lighting. His gaze is fixed intently on Hwanhee, watching, and Yein can only hope that he feels it somehow. That he understands.

“Just think about it,” his roommate says. Yein looks at him curiously. The man beside him stares straight ahead, the light from the stage casting shadows across his face, his lashes fanning out like crescent moons over his cheeks. 

_ Think about it. _ He imagines sitting across from Jinhyuk in their shared apartment, three in the morning, spilling out things he never imagined he’d say out loud.

Hwanhee isn’t the only one with things he needs to face.

Silence is painful, yes, but there’s something safe about it. It’s not comfortable - at the very least, it’s not the comfort he _ could _ be experiencing - but then again, things could be much, much worse.

* * *

After the initial study session, Hwanhee and Dongyeol start spending more time together, having realized that the combined force of their brain cells is actually - believe it or not - an effective tool to conquer the memorization and editing required for Renaissance Literature. Being a history nerd, Hwanhee understands a lot of the context, while Dongyeol is a gifted writer, and before long, Yein begins to spot them around campus together, sitting together around Hwanhee’s laptop in the nearby cafe or chasing each other through the quads after classes end.

Sometime during their little excursions, Dongyeol starts singing along softly to some song playing in their local Starbucks, and Hwanhee spends the next three days ranting to Yein and Jinhyuk about how unexpectedly gorgeous his voice is.

He and Jinhyuk have seen each other more often recently as well. He’s had some time off from his classes now that they’re working on a major assignment, and his roommate has the misfortune of being enrolled primarily in morning classes, so Yein often staggers out of his room after waking up at noon to find the other shuffling in through the door, groaning about some new topic that he can’t really understand. Somehow, living with Jinhyuk has become so _ natural. _ He finds himself so quickly getting used to the taller male snatching bites of the egg soup he cooks after waking up, the other preferring to steal his poorly-made food rather than get lunch at the campus cafeteria, or switching on the TV to watch some rom-com, or sitting on the couch with his laptop in hand, legs swinging off the side.

From a practical standpoint, whoever decided that they would someday meet as roommates was clearly making a dumb decision - approximately eighty percent of the time, Lee Jinhyuk is like the human embodiment of a stress-induced existential crisis, and Yein himself, despite his parent-like tendencies and his outward facade of _ having his life together, _ likes to indulge in one-brain-cell activities every once in a while. But the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that, maybe, being with Jinhyuk isn’t so unreasonable at all. They balance each other out, and they complement each other. They’re like two sides of the same hand. Being with him just feels right somehow, like all of this has been a long time coming.

“Honestly, hyung, I was just wondering… is there someone that you like?” Gyujin asks him one day. “I haven’t seen you date anyone for a long time.” And time and time again, he finds himself dwelling. His mind is taken back to spring nights in their apartment, when things would quiet down and he’d look up to see the familiar outline of Jinhyuk’s body as his roommate fried eggs at the stove, or attacked rogue flies with the newest issue of _ Cosmopolitan, _ or leaned quietly against the doorframe, lips slightly parted, scrolling through his phone. He’ll never fully be able to understand it.

_ Maybe not understanding is the point, _ he thinks.

* * *

One way or another, Hwanhee has to know eventually. And Yein doesn’t usually find it difficult to tell him the truth. More often than not, he reasons that it’s the best thing to do, as long as it’s done with good intentions and good execution. But when it comes to this, he really, truly does not know how to say it.

He’ll call his friend up for lunch or something. Maybe order a coffee and stall for a while. _ Hey Hwanhee, did you know that the guy you’ve liked for, like, forever has actually liked someone else this whole time? _

Maybe Hwanhee would smile. Or try to. He’d probably say something like, _ I should’ve expected that. _ If Yein has to witness that with his own two eyes, he just might lose it.

Still, every time they see Dongyeol around campus and his best friend’s whole face lights up, he can’t help but feel guilty over what he knows. Needless to say, between his and Jinhyuk’s secret, Hwanhee’s feelings for Dongyeol, and his own unsettled conscience, there’s a lot that goes unsaid.

Jinhyuk isn’t having any of it. Every time the topic of their friend comes up, he gets really quiet, as if he’s thinking about something, and Yein knows that, if he were to ask, his roommate would always voice the same thought. _ It’s best for him if he tries to confess. _

“What for,” Yein responds on one occasion. “So that he can get rejected and have his heart broken?”

“He needs the closure, Yein,” Jinhyuk simply says.

Honestly, if he had to choose between suppressing his emotions forever, letting them slowly rot away, and getting rejected after letting them out, he’d rather stick with the former. But he’s not Hwanhee, and, as he continuously reasons with himself, _ his _ feelings are… maybe he’s just overthinking it, and they’ll go away in no time.

His best friend is a different story. He visualizes him five years into the future, when they’ve all graduated from university, meeting up with Yein for a quick meal in between shifts. The same way they do now. They’ll be older then, a lot busier, and maybe Hwanhee will order a coffee and rant to Yein about someone new that he loves. And maybe all of this will be in the past. He imagines Hwanhee spending the next couple months trying to overcome the pain of being rejected by Dongyeol, and then ultimately moving on.

So when the younger visits their apartment one day after a study session and asks them if he should confess, explaining that the end of the school year is only months away and he has no idea when he’ll get another chance - Yein and Jinhyuk tell him yes.

* * *

What he expects, maybe, is a call back from Hwanhee. Or at least _ something. _ It’s been four hours since he was supposed to get back from his coffee date with Dongyeol, and Yein is getting a little worried. Then he doesn’t know exactly _ what _ to expect. Maybe Hwanhee has made his grand escape off to the wilderness to become one with nature. Maybe, God forbid, he’s drinking his ass off this very instant.

What he doesn’t expect, however, is for the younger to show up at their door that evening, frantically knocking and yelling for Yein to open the fuck up.

_ “Hyung!” _ The screeches get progressively louder. _ “Open the door!” _

Jinhyuk, who is standing at the kitchen sink, walks over and lets him in. Hwanhee nearly faceplants on their doormat before running into the living room and sprawling onto the couch, a slightly dazed expression on his face. Yein scrutinizes him carefully. He doesn’t _ look _ heartbroken, which is a good sign, but maybe he’s just in shock. You never know.

It takes a little while for Hwanhee to pull himself together.

“He said _ yes,” _ he breathes softly.

The room goes silent. “What,” someone feebly says. It might be him. Yein’s honestly not really sure at this point.

“I asked him if he wanted to go out with me, and he just smiled at me in that way he always does - all eye-smiles and cute as fuck -” His friend speaks slowly, as if he can’t believe his own words. “- and then he said _ yes.” _

Jinhyuk’s mouth falls open.

On the couch, Hwanhee flips onto his back to face the two of them. Yein watches his expression gradually changes from one of confusion and disbelief to giddy happiness. “Oh my God. I’m _ dating Lee Dongyeol,” _ his best friend whispers, staring vacantly at the ceiling.

“O-oh,” Yein manages to reply. His mind is still struggling to connect the dots.

“I know, right? God, I - I think my reaction was something like that too. I was just standing there, completely frozen, and I started panicking thinking that I looked like a complete idiot, which was what I _ said, _ and then he asked if he could hold my hand and I just about spontaneously combusted and after that I just kind of stopped talking and he _ held it.” _

“And get _ this - _ he said that he’s liked me ever since he saw me sing at coffeehouse night in freshman year, which was almost _ four years ago! _ I didn’t even know he was in the audience…” 

From out of the corner of his eye, Yein watches as realization slowly dawns on Jinhyuk’s face. His roommate looks like he’s been shocked out of coherency, and he supposes that the expression he’s wearing right now isn’t all that different.

Hwanhee sighs. “And to think this whole time I was just stressing out so much over this.”

He returns his gaze to the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought, and his lip trembles just slightly as he exhales. The look in his eyes is tender. In the ten or so years that Yein has known him, he’s never seen the younger look quite this thoughtful or this elated. His heart goes soft. He would’ve given anything - anything in the world - to ensure that his best friend can always live his best life.

But now that they’re dating, he doesn’t doubt for a second that he and Dongyeol will find ways to live it together.

“H-he - he said - he said he wants to sing a duet with me at coffeehouse someday,” Hwanhee continues. He looks at Yein, the hint of tears welling up in his eyes. “Hyung. I’m so happy right now. I can’t even describe how happy I am.”

“Holy _ shit,” _ Jinhyuk finally lets out. “Congrats.”

Yein moves to scoop up the younger in a giant hug. “I’m so happy for you too.” He’s close to tears as well as he pulls Hwanhee back, putting one hand on each shoulder to look his friend straight in the eye. “You should invite him over sometime; we can all have dinner to celebrate.”

He receives a smile in response. “Okay.”

“But you two better not get into trouble together, okay? And I know we gave you the spare key, but if I ever come home to see that you and Dongyeol have trashed the apartment, I will _ not _ hesitate to throw you out,” he jokes.

Over Hwanhee’s shoulder, Yein exchanges glances with Jinhyuk, who smiles secretively at him from behind their friend’s back. He has to chide himself for not listening to his roommate at first. After all, when it comes to these kinds of things, he has to admit that the man really _ does _ know what he’s doing.

* * *

“You know,” he relates to Minsoo, Jinhyuk’s old roommate and a friend of Hwanhee’s, after they run into each other on the bus ride to class one day, “Jinhyuk really helped them out a lot. Honestly, if they’d just been left to pine alone forever, they probably would’ve never made it to where they are now.” He laughs. “I can’t believe that they liked each other for _ years _ and never even exchanged numbers.”

His seatmate chuckles. On the outside, he seems like a relatively calm, well-spoken person. Yein has seen him around campus a couple of times, but they’ve never really had the chance to get to know each other, and he thinks that he’d like to be able to do so in the future. Minsoo seems like the kind of guy he could become good friends with.

“I see he still hasn’t told you.”

“Told me what?”

He obviously knows something that Yein doesn’t. The taller male sips thoughtfully at his Starbucks frappuccino, turning to give him a contemplative look. “Jinhyuk… obviously he cares about Hwanhee, but you know, maybe it wasn’t all for Hwanhee’s sake,” he says slowly, trying to choose his words as carefully as possible. 

“What do you mean?”

Hesitation from the other side. “Well, after all, he knows that Hwanhee is your best friend, and that he means a lot to you.”

He still doesn’t quite understand. The bus comes to a stop at the science department building, and Minsoo stands, silently grabbing his bag from the seat beside Yein’s and slinging it over his shoulder. He smiles, seeing the still-confused expression on the other’s face.

“Anyways, Yein, what I’m saying is that he was doing it for you.”

He raises his hand in a casual wave as he turns to leave the vehicle. “I’ll see you around,” he says, and Yein is left alone with his thoughts.

There’s the afternoon where he finally came home after escorting Hwanhee to the library. Jinhyuk was reading a magazine at the couch, legs crossed, and he looked up at the sound of Yein entering. “Thank you,” Yein had said to him. The realization slowly dawns on him as thoughts race through his mind, and he’s reminded of the look in Jinhyuk’s eyes, the way he _ smiled. _

_ Oh, _ he thinks.

Some things make even less sense now, when he looks at it. But some make a little bit more.

“See,” Jinhyuk says later that night, as the two of them are lying on Yein’s bed and staring at the ceiling. “I _ told _ you.”

He doesn’t know if he can handle these parallels right now, especially when life is handing him a bucketful of revelations. Minsoo’s face floats through his mind, wearing that knowing grin as he places the straw to his lips. He forces himself to will the image away.

“Who would’ve thought,” Yein muses dazedly.

He flips onto his side towards his roommate, eyes tracing over Jinhyuk’s side profile as the other lies on his back, arms and legs comically starfished out over the bedsheets. “Huh. I guess you were right after all. What do I owe you? Dinner? A back massage?”

In the dark, he sees Jinhyuk smile just slightly. The other pulls in his limbs and rolls over to face Yein. They’re practically on opposite sides of the bed, but even so, Yein feels everything else vanish into the background as he stares across from him, watching the rise and fall of Jinhyuk’s chest, looking him straight in the eyes.

Falling in love with Jinhyuk isn’t like a scene from _ The Notebook. _It’s quiet, as his roommate said. His feelings are there before he even realizes it. But in the end, much of it is the same; at the core, falling in love with Jinhyuk is much like the dimension-transcending, miracle-making, laws-of-nature-defying kind of cinematic love - a story of finding what once was lost.

Instinctively, he reaches his hand out, watching it land among the expanse of sheets between them, and Jinhyuk’s comes to meet him halfway. Silently, he intertwines their fingers, and Yein’s thumb traces out invisible circles on the unfamiliar skin.

He tries to count his roommate’s eyelashes - one, two, up until twenty or so, and then he loses track. The eyelashes don’t matter. It’s one of those rare moments when they cease to be stuck in some kind of awkward in-between or caught up in the kinds of thoughts that never seem to lead anywhere. They’re just two people existing in the midst of everything else - two halves of a whole idiot. Of a single brain cell. Confused, distressed, and doing it all together.

“Hey, Jinhyuk,” he mumbles. The tone of his voice sags a little, like he’s only half-conscious, almost speaking to himself in some kind of sleep-deprivation-induced delirium. Jinhyuk laughs. “What is it?”

The room goes quiet. “Tell me something about yourself.”

“About _ me? _ You’re going to regret asking me that question.”

“No. Tell me.”

“Only if you tell me about you.”

“If I tell you about me, I’ll even bore myself to sleep,” he jokes. “But sure. I’ll tell you something.”

“Good,” comes the reply. Silence. “Because I want to know everything about you.”

This man will be the death of him.

“Hey. That’s kind of creepy, you know.” Yein frowns. “Maybe I _ won’t _ tell you something.”

“I - okay, I did _ not _ mean it like that.”

“I know. Just wanted to rile you up a little.”

“Why do I even tolerate you.”

“That’s not how you’re supposed to treat the light of your life,” he retorts.

“The what now.”

“Light of your life.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Ya-huh.”

“You wish.”

“Admit it. You love me.”

“... Let’s compromise. You’re not altogether _ that _ bad.”

And maybe being like this - being comfortable with him - doesn’t sound all too terrible, either.

* * *

He’s tackling yet another reading assignment - some kind of theoretical essay on memory and metafiction - when Jinhyuk shows up at their apartment with not one, not two, but _three_ whole boxes of white cheddar Cheez-Its. He looks a little bit nervous, setting it down on the living room coffee table with more force than intended, and Yein looks up curiously from his book, catching a glimpse of the post-it note stuck to the front of the grocery bag.

_ To settle the score, _ it reads.

“Okay, I know this looks crazy, but Hwanhee is together with the guy he likes now and who knows, maybe I’ll have the same luck that he did,” Jinhyuk explains, attempting to preface whatever comes next.

It takes him every ounce of willpower not to burst out into laughter. “You really -”

His roommate turns to him. Whatever statement he was about to make instantly dies in his throat. “Seon Yein, by any chance, would you happen to be completely and irrevocably in love with me?”

He probably has the dumbest smile on his face right now, but there’s no world in which he could possibly care. If his smiles could smile, they would. There would be smiles upon smiles upon smiles, like fucking smile-ception or something.

Jinhyuk’s eyes glitter with amusement, but there’s that same familiar tenderness in them, always present despite the odds. Yein could just about kiss him right now.

“When you put it that way, it just sounds dumb,” he complains. His roommate’s only response is to take him by the hand.

He could just about kiss him right now, and so he does.

**Author's Note:**

> hey it is 1 am and im abt to be in tears??? im so so happy that i managed to finish this :(( its been a really long time since i last finished anything so i figured i should just get this fic out there, even if its not the best work to come into existence. im sure theres a lot of areas i can improve in but im really satisfied :") i wrote this instead of doing productive things so........ gotta enjoy this moment while it lasts amirite
> 
> i just wanna say thank you so much for reading this!!! if you have any comments/feedback/advice on how to improve, here's my [cc](https://curiouscat.me/smolshin), and you can also find me on [twt](https://twitter.com/xiaosmiles), most likely screaming abt dongyeol. im always happy to talk so please dont hesitate to reach out <3


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